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Chapter 2 - Chapter One – The Town That Doesn't Exist

Chapter One – The Town That Doesn't Exist

POV: Luna

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The map called it Silver's Hollow.

Locals called it nothing at all.

Tucked deep in the folds of the Pacific Northwest, between ridgelines of ancient trees and mountains that swallowed sunlight by noon, the town didn't appear on any GPS. Roads twisted around it like they were trying to keep it hidden. And maybe they were. Maybe someone was.

Still, she found it — or maybe it found her.

The bus wheezed to a stop on a cracked strip of road, no signs, no lights, just a wall of pines and the steady hum of silence. No one else got off. No one else even looked up.

She stepped down with one hand on the strap of her worn leather bag, boots crunching gravel. The wind picked up, cold and sharp, stirring her long coat and the tangled thoughts in her mind.

You're not here by accident, something whispered. You're here to remember.

She walked.

Down the winding gravel road, past empty barns and sagging fences, into a town that didn't look like it belonged in this century. Weather-beaten buildings leaned into one another, paint faded to memory, windows shuttered or curtained as if the whole place was sleeping with one eye open.

The sun had dipped low, leaving the sky a bruised shade of violet. The moon hadn't risen yet — that hour in between, when the world held its breath.

She paused in the town square.

A crooked diner buzzed faintly with tired neon. A general store stood across from it, closed. Every step she took felt watched. Not by people — not just people — but by the woods, by the wind, by something older.

A flicker in a second-story window caught her eye. Gone when she looked. Her skin prickled.

And then, a voice behind her:

"Looking for someone?"

She turned.

A tall man leaned against the post of the general store, half in shadow. Leather jacket. Amber eyes that gleamed in the low light. Calm, but coiled — like something beneath his skin was always ready to run or strike.

"I don't think so," she replied, keeping her tone even. "Just passing through."

"No one passes through Silver's Hollow," he said, pushing off the post. "They either belong here… or they disappear."

She didn't flinch. "Maybe I'm here to belong."

He studied her — not her face, but her scent, her energy, like he was reading something more than human language. Then he tilted his head slightly toward the forest.

"Moon's full tonight," he said. "Brings out old things."

He turned and walked away without another word.

She stood alone for a moment longer, the wind swirling around her like a warning.

Something was changing. Shifting.

And her heart — traitorous and strangely calm — pulled her forward.

The bell above the diner door jingled as she stepped in.

The smell hit her first — old grease, fresh coffee, woodsmoke, and something beneath it all... something wild. Not unpleasant. Just unfamiliar.

Heads turned slowly. Conversations paused. Every pair of eyes weighed her presence like a storm front.

She slid onto a cracked red stool at the counter and wrapped her fingers around the warm mug a waitress had placed in front of her without asking.

"First time in Silver's Hollow?" the woman asked. Mid-forties. Sharp eyes. Not unfriendly, but cautious.

Luna nodded.

"Not many strangers find their way here," the waitress said. "Especially not ones like you."

She raised a brow. "Like me?"

The woman leaned in slightly. "With that look. Like you're running from something… or toward something worse."

Luna sipped her coffee to avoid answering. It tasted burned, but comforting.

Behind her, the bell jingled again. A shift in the air. She knew who it was before she turned.

The man from the street — same leather jacket, same unreadable expression. He slid onto the stool beside her like he'd already decided this was where he belonged.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, low and quiet.

She met his gaze. "Maybe I am exactly where I need to be."

He blinked, like her answer surprised him.

"I'm Caleb," he said eventually. "Heir to the Silver's Hollow pack."

She froze — not visibly, but inside. Pack.

"I'm… Luna," she replied. A name she hadn't used in years. A name that suddenly felt true again.

He nodded slowly, golden eyes flicking toward the window, where the forest loomed beyond the street.

"The full moon's coming. Things will get... complicated."

She said nothing.

"Why did you come here, Luna?" he asked.

She looked down at her hands. Calloused. Strong. Lost.

"To find out who I really am."

A pause. Then the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Good luck."

The bell over the door rang a third time.

Both Luna and Caleb turned — and this time, neither spoke.

A tall woman stepped into the diner. Pale blonde hair in a braid over one shoulder. White coat. Cold eyes. She didn't look around.

She looked straight at Luna.

The air shifted. The room seemed to lean away.

Caleb stood. "Rhea."

Her eyes never left Luna. "We need to talk. Now."

Luna's stomach tightened. Not from fear — from recognition.

She knew that face. She had seen it before…

In a nightmare.

Or a memory.

And just like that, the past she'd buried began to rise — with claws.

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